


Blown Away

by Luthien



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Plot What Plot, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-01
Updated: 2012-09-01
Packaged: 2017-11-13 08:04:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/501282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luthien/pseuds/Luthien
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Belle explores late one night.</p>
<p>PWP set shortly after the end of Season 1.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blown Away

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Nym for looking this over for me.

The wind picked up during the night.

Belle woke to darkness. She pushed herself up on her elbows, her heart racing for a few terrified seconds until she became aware of the soft mattress and fine sheets she was resting on, and most particularly of the warm body lying beside her. She flopped back down onto the mattress and buried her face against the soft down pillow for a moment, breathing in comfort and warmth and belonging. Slowly, she let herself grow calm again as she listened to the old house creak and sigh while the wind built outside.

With a soft rustle of the sheet, a hand came to rest upon her thigh. "Are you all right?" Rumpelstiltskin murmured.

She hadn't thought he was awake, but of course he was. Somehow, he was always there, ready and waiting to catch her when she fell out of every nightmare. It had been a week now, since they'd found each other again, since the Curse broke, since she'd first taken him by the hand and led him up the stairs and into bed. She wondered if he'd slept at all in that time.

"Sorry," she said. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"You didn't," he said.

She wriggled closer and his hand moved with her, slowly moving up and over her hip, and then down again, over and over as he traced a long, languorous pattern on her skin. She stretched, arching up and into his hand, and his fingers stopped to knead her backside before resuming their journey. She sighed as she relaxed back against the mattress, and stroked her fingers along the back of his hand, encouraging. He didn't make a sound, didn't give any indication that he'd even noticed her response — except that his hand didn't slow.

Her eyes were starting to adjust to the dimness now. Beyond the bed, the blind covering the window was paler than the rest, silvered with the barest hint of moonlight. And closer, just across the pillow, she could make out his profile, a dark and mysterious silhouette. Here, like this, she could almost believe that she was in bed with the man he had been, the man she'd fallen in love with, and kissed for the first time. The man she'd lost, and who'd lost her.

His hand stilled. "Are you all right?" he asked again.

Instead of answering, Belle rolled onto her side, settling her head on the edge of his pillow so that she was close enough to kiss him. She felt the tiny prickle of stubble as her lips brushed his cheek and then found his mouth. His hand came up to cup her face, palm stroking along her jaw, gentle and soothing rather than demanding, but when she broke the kiss her breath was coming faster, just the same. She didn't attempt to move away. His breath was warm on her lips; they were still as close as it was possible to be without actually touching, but he didn't try to bridge the tiny gap. She cupped his face in turn, exploring the shape of it, loving that she alone was permitted to do this. He turned his head and pressed a kiss into her palm, and she closed her eyes and sighed. Her hand strayed up into his hair, fine and silky and altogether too straight, and she found herself imagining springy oiled curls instead.

She screwed her eyes up tight, tense all at once.

"What is it?" he asked, and she knew that he'd noticed. Of course he had. He rarely missed anything, when it came to her. He didn't always understand what each change signified, but he always noticed it.

"I… I don't quite know how to begin." _At the beginning_ , she reminded herself firmly.

Rumpelstiltskin was suddenly as still as death beside her.

"When I first saw you again, when I came to your shop, I didn't remember," she said. "And then, later, in the woods, when I did…" She stopped, and swallowed.

Outside, the wind whistled along the side of the house.

"Yes?" he said, voice so low that it all but cracked.

"I saw you, standing there in the forest, and for a moment, I thought…" Belle stared up at the shadowed ceiling, trying to choose her next words with care. "Only true love's kiss could break that curse, your personal curse, I mean. And yet, there you were, standing there, as you are now and not… as you were before. I knew I hadn't done it, hadn't kissed the curse away." Her voice hitched a little and she closed her eyes against the still-raw pain of that particular memory. "And just for a second, I wondered if maybe someone else-"

Rumpelstiltskin moved so fast that her eyes flew open in surprise.

"Oh, Belle," he said, and then he was half leaning over her, taking her face between shaking hands and kissing her, hard and desperate. "I love you, then and now. Of all the women in this world or any other, only you. Nothing will ever change that."

She kissed him back and reached up to rub her fingers in gentle circles between his shoulder blades, trying to convey reassurance, and to soothe his sudden agitation. She'd already known what he felt for her, of course — he was her true love, after all, and she was his — and yet it was something else again, something thrilling, to hear him state it in such terms. It made her momentary pang of jealousy back in the forest seem more than a little silly.

He was still kissing her, moving away from her mouth to press a string of hard, hasty kisses down her neck. The gentle dreaminess with which he'd touched her before was gone, and it occurred to her now that his behaviour wasn't so much reaction as it was overreaction.

"What did you think I was going to say?" she asked, her words ending on a soft gasp as his warm, wet mouth found the hollow where throat and shoulder met. "Just now, when you asked me what the matter was? What did you think my answer was going to be?"

His mouth was abruptly gone from her, though he didn't reply immediately. He was quiet. The room was quiet. Outside, even the wind was quiet for a moment.

She was beginning to think that he wasn't going to answer her at all, when the wind returned in force. The sudden sharp gust made the windows rattle, and Belle jumped.

Rumpelstiltskin's hold on her tightened, and he buried his face in her neck. "You've been through so much, and all of it my fault," he said against her skin, voice so low she had to strain to hear it, even this close.

It wasn't a proper reply to her question, but, even only a week reunited, she was already getting better at hearing what he didn't say. "It's just the same for me," she whispered back. "Only you. You shouldn't ever doubt that."

"You doubted me." He laughed, though there was no mirth in it. "I always lose what I love."

"Not this time," Belle said, still whispering, but it was a louder, fiercer whisper now. "You're stuck with me."

"And you with me, my dear," he said, though he sounded less than completely happy about it. That he thought she'd made a bad bargain and would live to regret it was obvious; she heard it loud and clearly through the silence.

There was no talking to him in this sort of mood, so Belle didn't bother with any more words. She took his hand and drew it across to her breast.

He didn't try to take his hand away, but left it there, lightly clasping her breast. And he was silent. He had learned, too, during this last week, it seemed. Then two fingers stroked gently across her nipple, and Belle smiled up into the dark.

Her breath was coming heavily by the time his left hand moved across to claim her other breast. His fingers circled both nipples, and plucked and rubbed and circled some more, until Belle was arching up into his touch, her head pushed back into the pillow and the room filled with her gasps and sighs.

She felt bereft when his hands abruptly left her, and then shivered and let out a shuddering breath as his mouth found her right nipple, kissing and sucking the hard little peak as he built and built on what his fingers had started. His hand returned to her other breast after a while, squeezing, and not so gently now, before his fingers sought her nipple to stroke and tease it to hardness.

Belle moved restlessly against the sheet. It was too much and not enough, all at the same time. She pushed him gently — and then not so gently — away.

"What?" Rumpelstiltskin asked, sounding slightly breathless and also more than a little uncertain.

"Nothing's wrong," Belle assured him quickly. "I just…"

"Yes?" he said at once.

"This is lovely, but I think I'd like something a little more…" Belle rolled onto her side and kissed him gently, delicately on the lips — and slid a hand between his legs. "Reciprocal," she finished.

He gasped against her lips, and then he was kissing her, desperate and a little roughly. She let her hand slip up and down the length of him, and he moaned quietly into her mouth. She loved the feel of him, so hot, so smooth, and so very hard. That was no real surprise, after everything she'd come to know in the seven long-short nights they'd spent together, and yet every time she touched him and found him so, she felt a thrill of achievement. _She_ did this. He was like this because of _her_.

His left arm slipped up and around her pillow, and when his right hand strayed back to her breast she didn't attempt to stop him. They continued like that for a little while, gently teasing and letting sensation build, and this time he was the one who, at length, pulled away.

"Let me," he whispered against her ear. "Please."

Belle turned her head to leave one last, lingering kiss on his lips, and then she rolled onto her back. She couldn't see his grin as the bed shifted beneath them but she could _feel_ it through the darkness, and she couldn't stop herself from grinning, too. Before this week, she'd known something of what went on between a man and woman, behind closed doors and under the cloak of darkness. Perhaps she'd been a little vague and hazy on the details, but she'd understood enough to know what to expect. And, as it turned out, she'd been right. The mechanics of it hadn't surprised her greatly, and yet, at the same time, she'd quickly come to realise that she'd understood nothing. Nothing could have prepared her for this giddy joy, for this… this shared _glee_ that came from the simple act of touch, in all its many forms. They were like two conspirators, she thought, sharing the greatest secret in the world.

Rumpelstiltskin didn't immediately return his full attention to her breasts, as she'd expected, but instead he took her hand, which was still clasped loosely around his… his _cock_ \- she willed herself not to blush as she thought the word — and drew it down between her own legs.

Belle's grin turned into round-mouthed surprise.

"Find your pleasure, my darling," he said, and she knew he was still grinning, damn him. She could just imagine the devilish gleam of mischief in his eye. Part of her wanted to shake her head at him reprovingly, but only a very small part of her. The rest of her was too busy turning the endearment over and over in her head. _My darling_. He'd never called her that before.

His hand covered hers, moving slowly, encouraging, as his mouth returned to her breast. Belle's fingers slipped down between her folds. She was wet, wetter than she'd thought, and soon her fingers were slippery with it as they found the little nub and slowly circled it.

Rumpelstiltskin raked his teeth across her nipple, and Belle cried out. When they were in bed together like this, she'd often been aware of a certain affinity between her breasts and the sensitive places at the apex of her thighs. A tug on a nipple would sometimes find an answering throb lower down, as though there was some thread of connection there, delicate and elusive as spider web.

This time, it had felt like a fork of lightning shooting through her and lighting her up from the inside.

Rumpelstiltskin's tongue laved at her nipple, easing the tiny hurt, and then his mouth left her, but both hands were back at her breasts before she had a chance to so much as draw breath. His touch was firmer now, his fingers stroking harder and faster, and Belle pushed up against his hands, and against her own, as her hips took up the rhythm.

He pressed closer, and she could feel him hot and hard against her, riding her leg.

She gasped. It was almost - _almost_ \- enough.

She felt his mouth again, warm and wet and somehow shockingly intimate against her shoulder, and that one last little point of pleasure was all it took. Sensation took her, and she stiffened and shuddered as it coiled tight in her belly and at last let go. Gasping and close to sobbing in relief, she didn't even realise that the low cry that cut the silence was her own until long seconds after it left her lips.

It took some time for Belle's breath to slow, and for the thundering of her heart to ease. Rumpelstiltskin was still toying with her breasts, she realised after a while, stroking in lazy circles as she rode out the last ripples of her pleasure. He always seemed to know just how hard or soft a touch she needed, how much she could take.

"How do you know?" she asked, giving voice to the question before she had a chance to retreat into shyness.

"How do I know… what?" he asked in return, his hands going still.

"How do you know how to… How do you know what sort of touch I need, and when?" she asked, suddenly very glad that he could not see her face.

"I listen to you," he said simply, stopping to press a kiss just below her ear. "When your breath is slow, I go slowly."

Belle felt a light touch at her nipple, like the softest of kisses. It was just a single fingertip, she thought, moving back and forth and just barely touching. Her skin tingled in response, and she sighed, long and deep.

"And then, when you do that, I do… this," he continued, his hand suddenly heavier against her, kneading ever so slightly, and stopping to tug gently at the nipple before his fingers spread outward to cup her breast again. She felt his teeth graze her earlobe.

"I didn't think that I was all that noisy," Belle protested.

"Maybe not _noisy_ ," he agreed, "except when you're _really_ happy, of course."

She just _knew_ that that wicked grin was back on his face. She swatted his arm, and he laughed, warm and deep. She didn't miss his old laugh, she realised, when he laughed like that.

"However, there are lots of… sounds along the way, to which I've learnt to pay due heed," he added, and then his mouth found hers. There was an urgency to his kiss that belied the teasing playfulness of his words. He was leaning half across her, pressing her down into the mattress, and it was tempting to just lie back and let him do what he would with her for a while. But she knew that this position wouldn't be good for his leg, however much he might try to hide the resulting pain from her. Belle couldn't bear the thought of causing him pain, however inadvertently, particularly not when it was so easily avoided.

She turned her head, breaking the kiss, and pushed her left palm up against his chest. Her right index finger she placed against his lips as he tried to speak, shushing him.

"Let me," she said, in an echo of the words he'd said to her earlier. "Please."

She felt his lips move against her finger, kissing it, she realised after a second, and then the mattress shifted as he moved off her and away. She waited until he'd settled back onto his side of the bed, but before she could make a move, he spoke:

"My lady, I am yours to do with as you will," he declared, and her eyes caught the suggestion of movement above the bed in the near darkness. She could easily imagine the grand flourish of his hands that must have accompanied his words, and the look that must have been in his eye as he did so.

Belle almost giggled at his outrageous pantomime, so much more like the Rumpelstiltskin she remembered than the restrained and careful public face of Mr Gold, but a tiny thread of dissatisfaction kept the laughter from bubbling forth. There were many advantages to making love in the dark, it was true, particularly when one was new to doing it, and maybe at times a little unsure in both the giving and receiving of pleasure, and perhaps even just simply shy. Belle might have experienced all of those feelings, and more, in the past week, and been grateful for the concealing darkness that hid her uncertainty and blushes, but now that time was past. She wanted to see and not just feel, to make love with her eyes quite as much as with all the rest of her.

Well, there was nothing standing in her way, she realised, and now she did let out a tiny chuckle. He was hers to do with as she liked: he'd just said so himself.

She reached out and found his leg, sliding her hand up and along his thigh to determine his position. He was lying on his back, arms loose at his sides, quite close to the edge of the bed.

Belle smiled. She moved closer on hands and knees, stopping to swing one leg over both of his, and a moment later she was straddling him.

Rumpelstiltskin's right hand moved up to touch her, finding and cupping her breast with ease. He drew in a deep breath, and shuddered as the breath left him again in a long sigh. Belle leaned forward over his chest, suspended just above him with his hand helping hold her in place. She reached out with her left hand, fumbling in the dark until her fingers found the switch on the base of the lamp that stood on the bedside table, and then she was looking down at Rumpelstiltskin, spread out beneath her and blinking in the sudden light.

"You told me to do what I would," she reminded him.

"I did," he agreed a trifle hoarsely. He swallowed. Hard.

She leaned forward a little more, wriggling out of Rumpelstiltskin's grip as she let her own hands take her weight, resting on the pillow on either side of his head. She gazed down at him. He looked back up at her, and now he was the one that was uncertain; it was written on his face for her to see.

_Mine_ , she thought, and bent her head to kiss him. This, at least, they had done in daylight before. Lamplight wasn't so different.

The kiss started gently, just a soft brush of her lips against his, but it didn't stay that way for long. His mouth was hard and demanding against hers in an instant as his hands moved up to grasp her shoulders, pulling her down until she was flush against him. Belle let the kiss happen — she wasn't exactly objecting to being kissed with such obvious hunger — but after a moment she pulled free and quickly leaned right back so that she was once against balanced on her knees and looking down at him.

"I thought we just agreed that it was my turn now?" she asked, trying her best to look stern.

Rumpelstiltskin had the grace to look slightly sheepish. He did not answer, but spread his arms out wide, and waited. He didn't smile in welcome, though, or even look particularly happy. He didn't look comfortable; he didn't look relaxed. Watching him, she could see the tension building in him with almost every passing second as he waited for her to make a move and she did not. It occurred to Belle that he might have tried to distract her with the kiss for reasons other than simple wanting — though there could be no doubt that that was part of it, too, she thought as her eyes strayed lower. His current state of arousal was hard to miss.

Belle had meant to take her time exploring him. She would start with his mouth, she'd thought, and work her way along his jaw and down his neck, one kiss at a time. After that she'd inspect his shoulders, and make her way slowly across his chest and onwards to his belly, and beyond.

But she didn't do any of that. Curiosity won out.

She was straddled high on his thighs, so she lifted herself up on her knees and wriggled back a bit, settling carefully just above his knees and making sure not to let much of her weight rest on his right leg.

And then she allowed herself to look. She knew the shape of it already, of course, had explored every inch of it with her hands in the dark that first night they'd come together, and every night since. But this was different. She was always surprised by the heat of his skin, there, but now she could see the heated colour of the flesh, as well. And it was big, bigger than she'd thought, somehow, despite the fact that it had certainly never felt small when it was clasped in her hand or… elsewhere.

Rumpelstiltskin cleared his throat rather pointedly.

Belle glanced up at him. He was watching her with one eyebrow slightly raised, and the ghost of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"Is everything to your satisfaction?" he asked lightly enough, though he didn't fool Belle for a second. She could hear the strain lurking behind the question, and feel the echo of it in the tense way in which he held himself.

"Oh, yes," she said with a mischievous grin, but foregoing a properly teasing reply. "For the moment." _Mostly_ foregoing it.

Quickly, before she had time to change her mind, she moved off him, but only so that she could kneel between his legs and bend down to grasp his hips. His sharp intake of breath surprised her a bit; she hadn't thought that the hips were a particularly sensitive part of the body. Hers weren't, anyway. The parts that lay between them, however, were another story.

It was a strange thing, this part of a man. Separate and apart from the rest of him, and yet it could rule him, too. 'A mind of its own' — she'd heard one of the kitchen maids back at her father's castle laughingly describe it that way once. She hadn't quite understood at the time, but now she had a better idea of what the girl had meant.

She wrapped her fingers around the base of it, of his _cock_ , in a loose clasp and slowly, deliberately moved her hand up, then down again. It jumped against her palm at the same moment that a muffled sound came from above, and he shifted restlessly. Belle looked up: Rumpelstiltskin had pushed the back of his wrist hard against his mouth, and his eyes were screwed up in an expression very like anguish.

Belle moved her hand again, just as slowly as before. This time he managed to remain quiet, more or less, but he breathed in sharply as her fingertips brushed the head of his cock, and arched his hips, pushing up hard into her hand.

Belle felt a little guilty as she watched his desperation mount. She'd used her hand on him like this before, once or twice, but she'd never _witnessed_ the effects of her actions, seen each and every — or any — of his reactions until now. She wondered if perhaps those reactions were also a little stronger this time, a little more intense, now that he could see exactly what she was doing to him.

She stroked her hand along the length of him again, a little firmer this time. Her palm found sticky wetness when she cupped the head, and Rumpelstiltskin _moaned_ , the hand still pressed against his mouth doing little to disguise the sound.

His noises cut her, right to the core. This time, Belle was the one who squirmed restlessly, suddenly becoming achingly aware of the lack of him inside her, and all but moaning herself. She was wet and _ready_ , and all of a sudden this slow exploration seemed like the worst idea in the world. She leaned down and kissed the head of his cock, which was, after all, exactly what she'd been wanting to do all along. The smell of him was heightened here: salt and sweat together with something stronger and sharper but far from unpleasant. She breathed him in, dizzy with wanting, and now, somehow, it was easy. She took hold of his cock and trailed a string of tiny kisses around the edge of the flared head, then tasted salt as her tongue flicked across the slit. And then she took as much of it as she could into her mouth, and sucked.

The noise Rumpelstiltskin made then was difficult to describe, though 'unrestrained' was certainly part of it. She drew her head back a little and felt his hands tangle in her hair. Their grip tightened as she leaned forward again, letting his cock slip between her lips and along her tongue until she felt the smooth, silky head push against the roof of her mouth.

She didn't mind the sensation, Belle decided, taking care to keep her teeth from scraping against sensitive male flesh. Above her, Rumpelstiltskin's breath was coming in ragged gasps, his fingers pressing hard against her scalp in a wordless urge for her to continue. A shiver seized him as she stopped to kiss along the length of his cock before closing her mouth over the tip once again. He was tense and shaking with the effort of not simply thrusting hard into her mouth, Belle realised then, feeling suddenly warm all over, and not just in body.

No, Belle didn't mind the sensation. His reactions, though… Those she loved, him she loved, so much so that it might have frightened her at almost any other time.

She ran the tip of her tongue across the head of his cock again, sucking very gently as she did so, and reached down to fondle the loose sac below with matching strokes.

"Enough!" Rumpelstiltskin gasped, pushing her off him, then grabbing her by the shoulders and half-pulling, half-dragging her up to him for a hard, needy kiss that left her shaking. He was shaking too as he pushed a hand down between them, readying himself, Belle realised.

She kissed him again, brief and hard. "Yes," she said, her eyes not leaving his face as she lifted herself up on her knees, her hand finding his as she lowered herself down to his waiting cock. There was a moment's discomfort as, together, they found the right angle, and then he was pushing into her, filling her as she rocked forward to meet his thrust. A moan left her lips as she closed her eyes against the sudden, overwhelming pleasure of simply being joined with him, and he cried out, his sounds of need mingling with hers. She took a deep breath and eased herself up and off him again, letting him slip free of her until only the head of his cock remained inside her, pressed tight against exactly the right spot. She bit her lip, not quite suppressing a whimper, and pushed herself down on him again, hard and almost shockingly fast this time, but he was already thrusting up to meet her. She leaned forward over him and he leaned up, their lips meeting in a clumsy, perfect kiss as his hands moved up to her breasts, clutching at them, plucking at her nipples so hard that it should have hurt. But she was beyond pain now, beyond anything but the feel of his mouth on hers, his hands at her breasts and his cock inside her as the rhythm caught them up.

Belle knew he wouldn't last, that she'd already teased him right to the edge with her mouth and tongue. A bare few heartbeats later she smiled down in triumph as she watched him stiffen beneath her and cry out. His face twisted in pleasure as she felt the pulsing of his cock within her and her own secret places throbbing in answer.

She stayed there afterwards, waiting for him to catch his breath and recover enough to speak to her again. She was watching his face, waiting for him to open his eyes and look at her, so his hand was brushing against her before she'd even realised that it had moved. His fingers stroked once, twice, just above the place where the two of them were still joined, and Belle gasped, falling over the edge and lost in the grip of her own pleasure as easily as that.

He slipped from her too soon, as always. Part of her wished that they could stay like that indefinitely, while the other, more pragmatic, part of her was simply grateful to be able to slip back down onto the sheets and curl against his side. He handed her the small towel that she kept in the bedside drawer, but before she could put it to good use he was kissing her again. There was no urgency about it; he did it because he could. And maybe because he didn't want to relinquish his hold on her any more than she had wanted to let go of him. She smiled as the kiss ended, and touched his cheek.

The sudden patter of raindrops on the windowpane drew her attention away from him for a moment. There was no other sound to be heard outside, she realised. The fierce wind that had woken her from her nightmare had died down at some point, or simply blown itself out.

She turned back to him, and found him watching her carefully.

"I meant what I said," she told him. "You're stuck with me. For ever."

"And you with me," he reminded her, his eyes never leaving her face.

"I'll make sure of that, _my darling_ ," she promised, returning his own endearment to him, and watched as his warm brown eyes grew warmer.

She liked his eyes, she thought as she leaned over to turn off the light. And his hair. And his smile. Yes, she very much liked his smile, the one that, she was almost certain, no one else in Storybrooke ever saw. She snuggled against him and dropped a kiss on his bare chest as his arm came about her to hold her close.

All their earlier doubts and uncertainties were gone, she thought, blown away with the wind. He was hers, however he looked and whatever name he went by. Nothing would change that — she would make very sure of it.


End file.
